The Randomness of Life
by MLaw
Summary: Response to a Half Drabble (limit 50 words) Challenge on Live Journal. A random poem is selected, not by me. You have to work with what you get. The 5th line of the poem or of each stanza becomes the prompt. Most are stand alone, but some tell a brief story. A few of these drabbles have been made into longer fics: "A Leaf Moves,"Zaporoche" and a new posting called "The Test"
1. Robert Service

** "I heard the fury run behind."**

"Napoleon watch out!" Illya cried.

A car careened across the bridge, toppling over the side...taking his partner with it.

Kuryakin dashed to the railing, seeing the car bobbing in the rapids below him.

"Napoleon!" His voice echoed.

A hand shot up towards him. "Less shouting, and more help please?"

.

** "All Pale but panting with elation."**

Illya grabbed his partner's wrists, mustering his strength to pull him up.

"Thanks, thought I was a goner."

"As did I." Illya panted."Now what do we do, we have lost our quarry."

"I guess we chalk this one up."

"Waverly will not be happy."

"Least we're alive to tell him."

.

** "T'was little hope your comrade gave."**

Illya emerged from the rubble, seeing Napoleon unscathed...except for his clothes.

"Thought you were dead."

"I guess I overdid the explosives" Illya replied.

"Do ya think? You owe me a new suit."

"Write it off."

"Can't, am over my allowance."

"It is only the first week of the month..."


	2. Sic Transit Gloris Mundi

Inspiration taken from " Sic Transit Gloris Mundi "~ Emily Dickinson

.

**I stay mine enemy!**

Illya grabbed her wrist, twisting it as she tried to slap him again. She was both surprised and shocked he'd freed himself without her knowing.

"That will do," he said, tying her to the chair. He leaned forward, kissing her on the lips...taking cue from Napoleon's book of tricks.

Again she was surprised and shocked.

.

**When I am **_**far**_ **from thee!**

Napoleon slipped silently from between the softness of the silken sheets.

"Where are you going?" A feminine voice asked.

He recited a quick line of poetry, saying how forlorn he would be while they were parted. "I'll call you when I get back Veronica, I promise."

"My name is _Gladys._.."

.

**Who first observed the moon!**

Sometimes Illya Kuryakin longed to stop the carousel of life, and to get off for a brief respite. No demands put upon him, no one shooting at him; just looking at a peaceful sky sufficed.

The moon... who first called it that? A ricochet above his head, called him back.

.

**And call your brother Mars!**

Napoleon crept among the ruins of the Roman amphitheatre, following his quarry past a marble statue of Mars. Appropriate, the god of war should be observing these night maneuvers...two foes doing battle.

"Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war," he whispered as his bullet found its mark.

**.**

**From off my father's tree!**

Illya always listened, carefully taking in the sage advice of his elders. He adored his brother Dimitry, mimicking his every move. He knew Dimitry was wise and had learned everything he knew from their father. As would Illya someday.

"An acorn falls not far from the tree." Papa said proudly.


	3. A Valediction Forbidding Mourning

Inspiration taken from: A Valediction Forbidding Mourning~Adrienne Rich

.

**They gave me a drug that slowed the healing of wounds**.

He lay in medical with eyes glazed over and unresponsive. Illya had never seen Napoleon like this before. Wounded, unconscious yes, but never zombie-like.

The nurse came in to change his dressings. "They're not healing," she said.

"Napoleon, come back to us, you need to get well." Illya entreated.

.

**A red plant in a cemetery of plastic wreaths.**

When U.N.C.L.E. lost one of their own, the memorial was always brief and few attended the burial. It was too close a reminder of their mortality.

Napoleon paused as the last of the dirt covered the sealed vault, sadly tossing a red rose on top of it, lowering his head.

.

**To do something very common, in my own way.**

He heard a tiny squeak coming from the bushes; upon investigation Illya discovered it was a white kitten; its eyes still closed.

With no sign of the mama, he tucked it under his sweatshirt for warmth; bringing it home. An eye dropper would do to feed it.

"Live," he whispered.


	4. The Strangest Creature On Earth

The Strangest Creature On Earth ~Nazim Hikmet

.

**always in a sparrow's flutter.**

The bird caught his attention as it flew from the bushes. Something had startled it.

Illya heard a twig snap, and he raised his weapon, aiming at the sound.

There was a rustle, and Napoleon stepped out, zipping his fly.

Sigh. "Next time take a piss somewhere farther away, please?"

.

**Not one, not five-**

A shot ricocheted above their heads, then another. Chips of brick rained down on them as they hid behind their meager cover.

"Why is it we're always outnumbered?" The American complained."Why can't we be in the majority for once?"

"Keep hitting your targets and we will be." Illya smiled.

.

**and run, almost proudly, to the slaughterhouse.**

As usual, they were outnumbered again. They had a mission to complete at all cost, even if it meant their lives... no choice now.

Napoleon looked into Illya's cold blue eyes, saying a wordless goodbye. "Shall we tovarisch?"

"Once more unto the breach, dear friend, once more," Illya smiled.

.

**is thanks to you.**

Napoleon sat his vigil at his partner's bedside, as he'd done so many times before. Illya always managed to pull through, even under the worst of circumstances.

Still Solo worried. There was always that small chance...

Those blue eyes fluttered open, speaking volumes without a word being said.

"Welcome back."

.

**but most of the fault, my dear brother, is yours.**

"Ow!" Illya yelped, "Kindly remove your knee from my back."

"Can't... wedged in here like a sardine in a can."

"Must you make your analogy using food. I am very hungry."

"You're always hungry. Never mind...just move to the side."

"There is no side...ow! You _did _that on purpose."


	5. A Night in Brooklyn

'A Night in Brooklyn' ~D. Nurkse

.

**water towers, cisterns,**

"Napoleon, we have been trapped in many places, but I believe this ranks up there with..."

"Why complain? No wait, you always complain." Solo shot back.

"We are standing up to our necks in 5ft. of water, being shot at by ..."

"Hey it's 105˚ out there. Think positively, we're _cool_."

.

**bluffs, islands, the next continent,**

"Don't you wish we could just stop the world and admire it for a bit? There's so many beautiful things out there that rush past us in the blink of an eye."

"Da Napoleon, but you please need to watch now where you are stepping before you fall off that cliff?"

.

**and we closed our eyes**

The pain was there, always after a mission; being worn in silence like a badge of honor, but did that matter? They cared not.

After dealing with the ministrations of these nurses, he'd prefer facing T.H.R.U.S.H. again, rather than them.

"Wake up Mr. Kuryakin, it's time for your sleeping pill..."


	6. Some Advice To Those Who Will Serve Time

Some Advice To Those Who Will Serve Time In Prison~Nazim Hikmet

.

**If you do ten to fifteen**

He'd been sentenced for what would be a lifetime. Anything over a few

years was that. Illya was innocent of course, it was a set up

And now he waited, not knowing, yet hoping his rescue was imminent.

He trusted his partner would find him. Napoleon had to find him.

.

**to spite the enemy**

Days drifted into weeks, then to months. They were starving him, working him to death.

He willed himself to go on in the snow, to lift himself from his bunk with an inhuman effort.

He would live, and Napoleon would find him. Where are you...where are you my friend?

.

**when outside, at forty days' distance, a leaf moves.**

There was no view of the outside world, only lichen covered stone walls to face each day.

A bird flew overhead, a sign of life.

With the air of Spring the thaw finally came. Outside there was life, hope.

He was growing weak in body, but not in spirit. Napoleon?

.

**and always remember to eat every last piece of bread-**

He was like a bird, pecking at every last crumb, even the fish broth tasted like a kings meal.

When others died, the rations increased.

Today there were two slices of black bread instead of one.

Would he soon be the next one to help fill the bellies of the others?

.

**it's like the snapping of a green branch to the man inside.**

Today he ate some bugs... a beetle, it tasted like apples, wasps like pine nuts, and worms like fried bacon. Or did they?

Was he losing his mind? His body was fading..."Napoleon." He dared to utter again.

The cough was becoming worse now, his chest wracked with pain.

.

**as long as the jewel on the left side of your chest doesn't lose it's luster!**

"_Tovarisch?"_ Illya heard the familiar voice. His eyes opened a moment later to see a smile, one he knew well.

He was out of that place, he didn't know how, but he was free.

Napoleon bundled him under a heavy blanket and held him tightly.

"You were very late this time," Illya whispered.

"I may be late, but I'll always be there."


	7. Moon Fishing

Moon Fishing~Lisel Mueller

.

**and one with a silver cup.**

It was one of the few times he'd seen Napoleon truly drunk. He sat sprawled on the livingroom floor, looking at a photo album, waxing poetic.

"I loved her, but she didn't love U.N.C.L.E...did I make a mistake with Clara?"

"Do not second guess, it will do no good."

.

**net of shimmering threads,**

Did you ever love someone?

Illya bowed his head; it was such a personal question.

"I was young...it was not real love but infatuation.

"First kiss?"

"Ten"

"First time you made love?"

"Sixteen."

"Regrets?"

"Many."

"And they are?" Napoleon pushed.

"That is your allotment of questions for the year."

.

**You must cut out your hearts and bait your hooks**

"There is no place for love in our lives I think," Illya said, "How could there be when we could be dead tomorrow?"

"I suppose you're right, wouldn't be fair to a woman would it? There's time enough for love when we retire I suppose."

"You are ever the optimist."

.

**and drink as you never have,**

It was a suicide mission. No one at headquarters hesitated telling them that. Yet a pool was started, betting on them to live or die.

"Let's celebrate, drinks tonight, Illya. I bet on us in the pool today."

"I think we will die."

"Oh ye of little faith, tovarisch." Napoleon smiled.


	8. The Fly

The Fly ~William Blake

.

**Am not I**

The boy Kuryakin lay in his bunk in the orphanage, feeling very much alone.

Why did his family have to die and not he? At first he felt unrelenting guilt.

"Why?" He'd ask. A day came when he said, "Am I not worth it?."

Then he began to live.

.

**And drink & sing;**

"Come Illya give us a song," his boatmate called. "The voyage beneath the waves has been dull."

"_Nyet_, you sing Vasha, you have the good voice, not me. I prefer to stay in the shadows.

"A toast then, " Vasha held up his vodka. "To shadows, may they long protect you."

.

**And the want**

It was a meager existence, day in and day out, with barely enough food.

Illya trudged on to his assignment, listening in on the idle chatter of women, who

shared recipes but had not the ingredients to make them.

It made him hungrier, just imagining a platter of hot_ pirogi._

.

**Or if I die.**

Illya pulled his wool coat tighter, as well as the ear flaps of his _ushanka_ against the bitter wind. Snow swirled through the cobblestone streets; soon they would be covered.

He could freeze on this stakeout, no one cared. He was replaceable, everyone was.

Yet, he would live to spite them.


	9. How noteless Men, and Pleiads, stand

How noteless Men, and Pleiads, stand ~Emily Dickinson

.

**Forever from the Eye-**

Ours is a precarious existence, being shot at and blown up one day, to sitting drinking wine and eating cheese along the Champs Elysees," Illya said.

"Mais ouis, never know who's behind us," Napoleon answered.

"Or in front...speaking of which, I think we are being watched."

"Here we go again."

.

**O'ertakenless, as the Air—**

"I cannot go a step farther, leave me," the Russian pleaded.

"Hang in my friend, we're almost there." Napoleon smiled.

"Seriously, must I go to Coney Island with you?"

"They have the best hot dogs...Nathan's Famous, come on Illya?"

"Honestly Napoleon, your epicurean preferences leave much to be desired."

.

**without a syllable-**

Theirs was a unique relationship; reading each other with no words needed.

Now there wasn't a choice; be silent or die.

Illya lay in the snow on a lonely part of the ski slope, his ankle broken.

To call out meant death from above.. avalanche.

Would Napoleon sense his predicament?


	10. Café Talk

Café Talk ~Thomas Blackburn

.

**Still, it's the Alpine sun that makes them burn,**

They traveled down the slopes effortlessly shushing back and forth

crossing each others paths almost playfully.

"Are we actually having fun on an assignment?"Napoleon called.

"It would seem so," the Russian acknowledged. He saw the bright glint

reflected from the sun...something metallic, just as the shot was fired.

.

**It is our childishness that clutters up**

Napoleon, why do you insist on holding onto such clutter."Illya asked,

picking up the model sailboat. Napoleon's boyhood room was filled with

toy soldiers, baseballs...trading cards.

"Hey, they're my childhood memories. Don't you have any?"

"Mine are tanks and guns...real ones. I need no reminder of them."

'

**'Quite well, you needn't shout.' I felt the thirst**

Illya looked up from the well he'd been dumped into hours ago.

"You okay?" His partners voice echoed down.

"Nothing that a nice glass of water would not solve as I am rather

thirsty."

"Illya, you're in a well."

He shook his head as the sat on the dry floor...

.

**By suffered depredations we may grow**

"Torture, just the thought of it is torturous. Beating, cutting, drowning,

drugs, sleep deprivation...sometimes I grow weary of it.

"Me too tovarisch, but what doesn't kill us makes us stronger.

"If that is so, then you are a Superman and I am Spiderman."

"Why Spiderman?"

"I like his costume."

.

**It was quite dark now you must understand**

Why does it always have to be a dark and stormy night? Napoleon said

as they sat together beside their campfire.

"You asked for a ghost story, and do they all not start that way?"

"I _suppose_."

"Fine then, once upon a time a Russian strangled his partner. The end."

.

**Outside the streets were like us and quite dead.**

They were caught up in the middle of a revolution with nowhere

safe to go. Communications were down...they were on their own.

They hid in a basement, finding bottles of wine and helped themselves.

"Good vintage," Napoleon raised his bottle.

_"Viva la revolución_," His partner took a long swig


	11. Assault

Assault~Edna St. Vincent Millay

.

**At dusk upon this unfrequented road.**

Tanks and lorries lumbered past the small red dacha the Kuryakin family called home.

Tanya held her children, with her mother in law. The house shook with the rumblings outside and little Illya

broke free, running to the window.

"What are they?"

"Do not look upon death Illuyshenka," Babushka whispered.

.

**From one house to another!**

Germans went from one home to another, pounding on doors, taking husbands, uncles and brothers.

It was rumored there was a camp outside Kyiv...

Illya prayed they would be passed by, and somehow they were though, luckily his father and brother were with the partisans.

They were safe for now...


	12. Range-Finding

Range-Finding ~Robert Frost

.

**And still the bird revisited her young.**

"Look out!: Napoleon called as the chopper dove in their direction, shooting at them with a powerful .50 caliber Browning machine gun.

The bullets strafed the ground on either side of the agents.

"Do you think she is just a little pissed off?"

"Well we did destroy her nest."

.

**The indwelling spider ran to greet the fly,**

Angelique placed a carnation on Napoleon's lapel, just as she had once before.

"I trust no spider this time?" He asked warily.

"No darling not quite, perhaps tonight I will be the spider and you can be my fly."

"Where would you like to lure me, your room or mine?"


	13. Sonnet On An Alpine Night

Sonnet On An Alpine Night ~Dorothy Parker

.

**Thus to face Beauty have I traveled far,**

He poured another glass of champagne for her as he gazed into her familiar, lively blue eyes.

"Napoleon, I really shouldn't. I'll get tipsy."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"My darling, you may think that with your many female admirers, but after all, I am your Aunt," Amy chided him.

.

**When Beauty, still and suppliant at last,**

"Darling, another glass of champagne, I really couldn't. One would think you're trying to get me just a little tipsy."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"Ah but you could work your charms on me and get me to go to bed with you," Angelique purred.

"And this is something new?"


	14. Dream Song 113

Dream Song 113: or Amy Vladeck or Riva Freifeld~John Berryman

.

**For many years I hid it from him successfully—**

"There are so many words I leave unspoken, so many truths about myself, hidden.

He is my friend, and I trust him with my life but why can I not trust him with my secrets?

What do I fear, my partners pity?" Illya asked as Napoleon appeared, smiling at him.

.

**to liven up the airless with one nose**

"Leave it to a fistfight between those two to settle things," Mark said.

"I've never seen them this angry and over a sofa filled with diamonds?" April declared. "Can you imagine arguing over that?"

"Illya forgot to search it and Napoleon caught trouble for it."

"Hey things happen." April smiled.

.

**for which I flush with gratitude; yet away**

"I've lost count how many times you've done this." Napoleon said, looking at his partner after a bullet had been removed from his shoulder.

"It is my job to protect my partner, " Illya groused.

"No it's not."

"You will not convince me otherwise. Now where is my chocolate ice cream?"


	15. The Sorrow of Love

Prompted by: The Sorrow Of Love ~William Butler Yeats

.

_**Had blotted out man's image and his cry.**_

_It was a fine soft night as Napoleon Solo sat alone on his terrace; the din of concrete and brick city below, calling to him. _

_Something was missing..._

_He longed for tall green trees, growing free; and yearned for their sheltering peace with no one hiding behind them, shooting at him.__  
_

_._

**And proud as Priam murdered with his peers;**

Napoleon rose softly from this goddess's bed; it was late.

He had spent the evening making love to a beautiful woman, whose name he had already forgotten.

Yet her face was one that could definitely launch a thousand ships...

And he but a mere ship that passed in the night.

.

**Could but compose man's image and his cry.**

Young Illya stared at the moon in the sky, listening as the leaves rustled their last lamentation

before falling in surrender to Father Frost and the Snow Maiden.

There would be no joy at their coming, only cold... hunger.

The boy missed his family, and cried at their passing.


	16. Flowers—Well—if anybody

Prompted by: Flowers—Well—if anybody ~Emily Dickinson

.

**Anybody find the fountain**

Do you think Thrush has lost their mind on this one? Napoleon asked.

If you call traipsing through St. Augustine, looking for the fountain of youth...then yes. It is mere myth, urban legend." Illya said with disdain.

"Believable enough for the Old Man to sent us after them,_ tovarisch._"

.

**Have a system of aesthetics—**

Napoleon walked into his partners spartan apartment. In all these years

Illya had yet to put up curtains, simply using the yellowing shades to keep his privacy intact.

"How can you live like this?"

"I do not need much," he answered, misting a red orchid on his kitchen window sill.


	17. Spleen (IV)

Prompted by: Spleen (IV) ~Charles Baudelaire

originally written in French

.

**Quand la terre est changée en un cachot humide,**

**(When the earth is changed into a damp cell,)**

They had me, and leave it to Thrush to want to use la guillotine.

I have waited very patiently for my American partner to rescue me, but it seems time is running out now and there is no sign of him at all.

I think I am going to die.

.

**D'une vaste prison imite les barreaux,**

**(In a large grim prison bars,)**

I watched through my prison window today as they assembled the means of my execution.

Each board nailed carefully, put precisely into place... all this work for something that would take just a split second to be over.

I wondered how badly would it hurt?

I would know soon enough.

.

**Ainsi que des esprits errants et sans patrie**

**(And wandering spirits and homeless)**

"Where would I go once I was dead...would I cease to exist as if I had never once walked this earth?

I do not believe in heaven, as the cruelties of life drove that out of me when I was a child."

"Bozhe moi, I have to go somewhere?"

.

**Sur mon crâne incliné plante son drapeau noir.**

**(On my bowed skull plants her black flag.)**

"I knelt down resting my head in the stock; they placed a black cloth over me, though I protested."

"I did not want my last sight on this earth being that."

There were shots from a silenced gun, and several thuds.

"Hey buddy, cavalry's here."

Smiling; I knew that voice.


	18. Far Within Us 3

Prompted by: Far Within Us #3 ~Vasko Popa

.

**My naked words shiver**

The Russian was a private man, unlike his partner; he kept his liaisons to himself.

.

He kissed his bedmate, not wanting to speak and letting his lips be his words; keeping his thoughts from escaping, naked, and exposing his soul to her.

She could have his body, but not that.

.

**The air is impassable**

Outside the air was heavy and impassable, yet inside as they lay together in bed, it grew hotter as their sweating bodies became intertwined.

Not once did he lose himself in her embrace.

Their love making was over, and Illya dressed himself; skulking off like a thief in the night.


	19. Daybreak

Prompted by: Daybreak ~Galway Kinnell

.

**and enormous, imperfect stars**

"The sky's so clear at night when you're in the desert." Napoleon remarked, looking upwards as he and Illya sat beside their campfire.

"Skies are different in Russia this time of year..."

Napoleon looked at him quizzically

"A white night, one of the midnight sun." He fondly remembered Leningrad...

.

**increased their receptivity**

Trapped inside a cave; they were unable to get a clear signal on their communicators.

Illya reached into his backpack, pulling out a sandwich, handing half to his partner. "What? I think better when I have eaten."

He wrapped a piece of tinfoil around the antenna.

Voila, there was a signal.

.

**they were as invisible**

Their car went careening over the embankment, rolling and tossing the agents like a rag dolls.

When Napoleon woke, he found his conscious partner beside him.

"You okay?"

"Broken leg."

"Me too."

Their communicators were dead. "_Chyort,_" the Russian cursed.

Headlights appeared above them. "I think _tovarisch_, that help just arrived."


	20. Under Ben Bulben

Prompted by: Under Ben Bulben~William Butler Yeats

.

**Swear by those horsemen, by those women**

Illya Kuryakin stood, smiling as he watched the riders speed past, doing their fancy tricks as they bounced off the ground, alighting to their saddles.

The grace and beauty of the old Cossack ways...stirred his soul.

"Come boy, we will teach you!"

He grabbed the horse's reins eagerly. "Da!"

.

**Now they ride the wintry dawn**

Cossack horses were sturdy animals; one had to show them who was boss, otherwise you'd be thrown from their backs like an unwanted guest, tossed in the snow.

His chestnut horse was of the _Don_, the oldest Cossack breed. It was not _Kubanian_, or _Budenny_, but would do, they said.

.

**Whether man die in his bed**

Illya sat atop the beast, feeling a sense of freedom, with the wind blowing through his blond hair.

He balanced himself as he rose in the stirrups, standing upright, using his knees to hold himself straight, releasing the reins.

If he died this moment, he would die a happy man.

.

**Sharp their spades, their muscles strong.**

The men sang as they worked, the strong _Kubanskiye Kаzaki, _building their shelters. These were the Cossacks who survived the persecution of the _Bolsheviks_ and the onslaught of the Nazis.

Illya worked alongside them, learning their ways, sitting beside their campfires...sneaking off with their women.

Life was good.

.

**Something drops from eyes long blind,**

Yet Illya knew there were few such men as these left. Stalin had seen to that.

Clinging to their traditions, yet could not see their ways were slowly killing them.

He would learn as much as he could, preserving their collective memories so they would live.

Life on the steppes.

.  
**With some sort of violence**

He watched from the shadows as the squads of soldiers invaded the camp of these men who'd remained loyal to the Red Army. Some from the 94th _Beloglisnky_, 152nd _Rostovsky_ and 48th _Belorechensky_ regiments fought to their death at the encirclement of _Belostok_.

Illya sadly shook his head in dismay...

.

**Make him fill the cradles right.**

They trampled the women, killed precious children, thinking the _Kubanskiye Kаzaki_, would die out.

Illya knew there was nothing he could do, and he left in the night feeling like a skulking dog. It was his time to report for duty at _Severomorsk_, on board the Zulu class submarine, _Moskva_.

.

**On the Sistine Chapel roof,**

Illya found a miniature icon dropped by someone, and hid it close to his breast. Not for worship, but a reminder of the day, though he'd never forget it.

He did not understand this at all as he passed the carcass of his beautiful horse...all the horses were dead.

.

**Flowers and grass and cloudless sky,**

He took a long last look at the outside world, soon it would be only grey waters and grey skies that would surround him for six months.

Yet the blood was everywhere, tainting the beauty of the grass of the steppes and its wild flowers.

He slowly bowed his head.

.

**That heavens had opened.**

A flash of lightning, a long, rolling rumble of thunder heralded an approaching storm.

The snow came, blanketing the land white.

Illya pulled his wool coat tightly about him; finding shelter in a nearby village and told them of the massacre.

They were not Cossack and looked on with indifference...

.

**Their unremembering hearts and heads**

He cursed his Soviet masters for their ruthlessness, yet he too was at their mercy, just as the _Kаzaki _had been.

Illya Kuryakin had no choices in life. He did as he was told, if not, death was the alternative.

Unmerciful, not caring for him.

He was not ready to die.

.

**Porter-drinkers' randy laughter;**

Life on board a nuclear submarine was tense as they patrolled the Barents and Norwegian Seas, the Arctic and Atlantic Oceans. They were responsible for the defense of northwestern Russia.

The endless hours of boredom, playing cards, reading, sleeping and fending off unwanted advances with his knife made for a tense existence.

And he daydreamed of Cossack horses riding on the steppes.

.

**That we in coming days may be**

He slept fitfully, adding that gruesome sight to the memories that haunted him from his childhood; the ghosts of his family...the faces of the walking dead in the concentration camp.

He heard the desperate Cossack voices and the pained cries of the horses.

And yet he dreamed of riding...

.

**Long years ago, a church stands near,**

The _Moskva_ anchored near one of the many islands in the White sea, and they went ashore seeking fresh water.

Silhouetted on a hill near a ruined monastery stood a chestnut horse, it's mane and tail blowing in the wind.

Shaking its head, as Illya watched; it called to him.

.

**Horseman, pass by!**

"Fresh meat!" Someone cried out. "Get it!"

"You Kuryakin, you know horses, go catch it and we'll have fresh meat to eat for a month."

His stomach knotted as he approached, hoping it would flee.

"Yah!" He called in a low voice.

Watching it run; he dreamed of Cossack horses.


	21. A City Remembered

A City Remembered ~Vernon Scannell

.

**Of soot more myriad than gnats, a cloud**

I remember that night on the beach in Long Island, we were so young when we explored each other, as precocious teens often do.

She was willing and I even more so.

Napoleon sighed as he remembered the first time he made love to a girl...what was her name?

.

**I see the trams, like galleons at night,**

I see the faces of them all, hundreds of beautiful women that I caressed, and been caressed by them.

Drifting like enchanting phantoms through my memories... filling a gap left by Clara, or at least part of it.

There won't be another like her in my life, but I'll keep looking.

.

**Laborious smoke, stale beer and autumn gusts,**

I can't help myself when I see those pouting lips and winking hips.

The ladies of UNCLE are wise to my ways, dating many, not just one.

Yet they still flutter to me like moths to a flame.

Hey, when you got it, you got it ...and I have it.

.

**And when it sputtered out, hung charred and sombre,**

I've overdone things a bit, but learned my lesson; one date at a time... not every night of the week.

I was slapped three times yesterday because I mixed up some names, and the nights we were to rendezvous.

Time to slow down...

(Phone rings)

Mandy, sure...how about in an hour?

.

**For beauty is the shape of our desires.**

"Sandy, mon petit chou." I kissed her and she kissed me back with equal fervor, though seconds later I realized I called her by the wrong name.

"Aren't you going to slap me for my faux pas?"

"Mmmm, only if you stop what you're doing with your hands Napoleon dear."

.

**A desolate enchantment that I"ll love.**

And slipping from her bed... the enchantment already fading away, still I dream of my next encounter with another woman; the touch, the scent.

I'll never end these brief affairs. They tell me I'm alive, filling the emptiness in my heart left by the only woman I ever really loved.


	22. As old as Woe

Prompted by: As old as Woe ~Emily Dickinson

.

**How old is that**

Seriously are you really going to eat that?"Napoleon cringed as he watched the squirming grub pinched between his partners fingers.

"Of course, it is nutritious, more than that K-ration you are contemplating. I think that is from World War I."

I like my food not to wiggle, thank you."

.

**Can Human nature hide**

The rations weren't enough, and Napoleon picked up a grub, cringing as it dangled over his open mouth.

"Do not think about it, just let it bypass your tongue, and slip down your throat," Illya whispered encouragingly.

Napoleon tried but couldn't do it.

"I think I'd rather starve," he moaned.


	23. Sonnet 27: Weary with toil, I haste

Prompted by: Sonnet 27: Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed ~William Shakespeare

.

**For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,**

It was his weekend off, and Illya disappeared, wordlessly, not telling Napoleon of his plans.

No, this was private, his rendezvous with Marion.

They met at a B & B outside the city; he anticipating spending the day in bed with her, but that was not to be.

She was unhappy.

.

**Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,**

She blindsided him, saying she wanted more than to be an afterthought, and merely his bedmate, like a common strumpet.

He couldn't give what she wanted, insisting he cared for her.

She sent him packing, it was over.

He sighed, this was his lot in life...to be abandoned again.


	24. Love

Prompted by: "Love~Pablo Neruda

.

**and if we want**

Both Napoleon and Illya toyed with the innocent, like two cats and one helpless mouse.

Illya moved in for the kiss, yet Napoleon tapped her on the shoulder and as she turned from his partner, he pulled her into his arms, kissing her, making her completely forget the blond.

.

**a body just like those that have slipped**

"My turn," Illya practically purred. He made her turn back towards him, staring into her eyes with his two limpet blue pools, not cold but languid and wanting.

She moaned as she leaned into his lips, and he devoured her in his kiss.

Napoleon tried to free her, unsuccessfully. Sigh.

.

**depth for my arms**

"Oh, so I was a contest between you two?" Kamiko snapped.

"Who between us is more...desirable?" Napoleon crooned.

Her laughter, like delicate wind chimes. "Your tongue has greater talent Mr. Solo, but there's a depth to _his _kiss...it touched my soul."

"Pay up." Illya smiled, holding out his hand.


	25. Witch-Wife

Prompted by: Witch-Wife ~Edna St. Vincent Millay

.

**And her mouth on a valentine.**

Her lips were so soft, so desirable when we kissed. They were

mine or so I thought the times when I was able to see her, my Marion.

Yet there was something in her eyes, it was distant.

She was lost someplace else when we made love.

I gave her all I could.

.

**Or steps leading into the sea.**

I would watch her walking in the sand as the waves would gently roll in, stealing her footprints away as though they had never existed.

"Illya," she would whisper, reaching her hand to me, sometimes I would grasp hers. I sensed something was wrong, but she would not say it.

.

**And she never will be all mine.**

I think back now, and should have guessed why she said good bye. What I had to give her was not enough.

Marrying her... too many risks of leaving her a young widow, and what if there were children?

No, Marion was never meant to be mine, nor I hers. Sigh.


	26. On The Death Of Anne Bronte

Prompted by: On The Death Of Anne Bronte ~Charlotte Bronte

.

**Calmly to watch the failing breath,**

He sat beside her, holding her hand, as that was all he could do at this point. She'd been caught in the crossfire, and took a bullet...a fatal wound.

Illya refused to believe that, leaving him there with the girl, while he was off seeking help.

It was too late.

.

**Although I knew that we had lost**

We had won the battle, Napoleon thought but at what cost? Was her life worth completing this mission? The greater good, he told himself, but it failed to ease his pain.

Illya handled it better, bless his cold little Russian heart, at least he seemed to.

Was he hurting as well?

.

**Must bear alone the weary strife.**

They said nothing as the cleanup team arrived and the girl's body was put in a bag and loaded onto the gurney.

Illya handed them her purse.

"Wait," Napoleon said, taking it... finding her identification. "Her name was Anne, we need to remember that Illya. She was a real person..."


	27. It did not surprise me

Prompted by: It did not surprise me ~Emily Dickinson

.

**And the nest forgot,**

"It never ceases to amaze me how lax T.H.R.U.S.H. security," Napoleon chuckled quietly.

"Yes, but their stupidity does make our jobs much easier," Illya gave his partner a leg up over the wall. Napoleon sent over a rope, allowing the Russian to follow.

"Imagine, leaving the safe unlocked." Illya smiled.

.

**God's old fashioned vows—**

Did I just hear you say you would marry that girl Napoleon?"

"Well I had to do something to get them all to calm down."

"You are not seriously going to take those vows are you." Illya was incredulous.

"Not if I can help it."

"That sounds more like you."

.

**Had departed me?**

Alas poor Yoric, I knew him well." Napoleon picked up an old sheep skull from the floor of the cave.

"Shush, do you want to awaken what might be living in here?"

"What could be in here?"

"Bear."

"Bear_ tovarisch?_ Here? Too small."

"Bear!"

Again with the bear?"

"Behind you!"

.

**In the heart instead?**

Illya poised with his pistol in his hand, trying not to shake as he looked at the scaffold below in the courtyard.

Napoleon was to hang.

He had to decide, the head or the heart. He wouldn't let Solo suffer a hanging...

As the trapdoor opened, Illya shot the rope.


	28. A Song

Prompted by :A Song ~Robert Creeley

.

**thrush, though I have never seen one.**

Napoleon lifted his partner's head, wiping away the blood with his handkerchief.

The wound looked superficial, but enough to have knocked him out.

"Illya?"

"Mmmm, da?" The Russian came to slowly.

That Thrush got you good, tovarisch?

"_Chto takoye molochnitsa_what is a thrush?"_

"You don't know?"

"Nyet."

"Oh oh..."

.

**Which one sings, if he sings it,  
with care.**

"It is a songbird?"

"Yes, but there's another kind, a nasty human kind of Thrush. You really don't remember them...you remember me and UNCLE right."

"Da, you and U.N.C.L.E...not the other.. Wait. They have guns?"

"Yes..."

"I think one is behind you." Illya shot, not hesitating.

"Thanks, partner."


	29. Evening wind

Prompted by: Evening wind ~Yosa Buson

.

**Evening wind:water laps the heron's legs.**

They lay together, side by side on the reed lined shore. Quiet now. The Russian and American finally breathed a sigh of relief.

The fire fight was fierce but one by one they darted their attackers.

Utter silence, as a heron raised it's graceful head, taking off into the sunset.


	30. Courage

Prompted by: Courage~Robert Service

.

**Upon a branch as bleak as night**

I was so cold that first night alone, as I hid behind the great trees

near the ruins of our dacha.

They were gone, all gone. Papa, Mama, Babushka. Dimitry, the twins, my beloved baby sister Katiya. Uncle Vanya and cousin Anatasiya.

Why did I live?" Little Illya asked himself.

.

**Serene it seemed to lift its head:**

Today I watched as a Little Bittern stopped to rest in a tree, I was surprised to see it as it was far from the Dnieper River where Papa told me they liked to winter.

Suddenly there were explosions coming from Kyiv, startling the bird; it flew away. Perhaps that is what happened to all the animals... except wolves.

They remained to scavenge among the dead.

"I will not become their prey." Little Illya vowed to himself.

.

**And I shall see what none shall see -**

I entered the ruins of the city, there were so many buildings torn apart, just piles of ash and rubble. The smell of death... everywhere.

I needed to find water. A broken pipe gave me that precious gift.

"_Spacibo_." Little Illya said to himself.

.

**And I shall know what none shall know -**

I was determined to survive, but needed food and shelter. I raided the ruins for what I needed. A piece of babka, potatoes, vodka. Clothing, a rucksack...a knife. The city would provide what shelter I needed in spite of her grievous wounds.

"I will live," Little Illya promised himself.

.

**But though I pass before my time,**

I am safe in my hiding place. There is fire, food, water, books... though the Nazis might find me and take me.

I heard my parents speak of a camp, but better I die than go to that place, that camp of death.

"I am frightened," Little Illya cried to himself.


	31. Death sets a Thing significant

Prompted by: Death sets a Thing significant ~Emily Dickinson

.

**To ponder little Workmanships**

"Admittedly, THRUSH does get rather creative." Illya pointed at the device he'd just disarmed. "Dual timer. Had I not discovered before cutting the first wire, we both would be pulling up daisies."

Napoleon smiled at his partner's malapropism."That's pushing up daisies."

"Pulling, pushing... does it matter? Dead is dead."

.

**A Book I have—a friend gave—**

Illya stroked the old binding of the book his partner had just given him for his birthday, or as Napoleon had dubbed it...un-birthday, helping him to forget his sad past around that date.

"_Spacibo_. I read this book once as a child then burned it for warmth. It was banned later on, so I never saw it again.

.

**Too Costly for Repairs.**

Someday they won't be able to put Humpty Dumpty together again," Solo said to his bed-ridden partner.

"Who is Humpty Dumpty?"

"Not worth explaining. Get better and stop getting shot?"

"Not like I do it on purpose."

"Really? You stepped in front of me when he fired..."

"I did?"


	32. I could die—to know

Prompted by: I could die—to know ~Emily Dickinson

.

**Morning's bold face—stares in the window—**

Illya woke with a start, as he looked out the window of the small cabin he'd take refuge in from the storm; he swore he saw a face looking in.

He painfully rose, pulling his weapon as the door creaked open A black-cloaked figure appeared. Was it Death?

.

**Possibly, this moment**

He collapsed, passing out. When Illya's eye opened, his wounds were bandaged.

"About time." Napoleon smiled.

"Ah so it was you who tended to me."

"No, just got here...homed in on your signal."

"If Death did not call on me, who did?"

"Maybe an Angel of mercy, Tovarisch?"


	33. Heat waves shimmering

Prompted by: Heat waves shimmering~Matsuo Basho

.

**Heat waves shimmering**  
**one or two inches**  
**above the dead grass.**

They were trapped out in the blazing sun; a large boulder their only cover.

"If we do not get water soon, T.H.R.U.S.H will not need to kill us, nature will have done the deed for them."

Napoleon thought, then called out. "Okay, we surrender."

Illya paused, but smiled at him.

.

"Toss you weapons, stand slowly with your hands up."

The agents complied, facing their two opponents.

Napoleon and Illya moved towards them, their hands clasped behind their heads.

"On your knees!"

Suddenly Illya pulled two knives hidden beneath his jacket collar, throwing them and killing both men.

"Nice move_ tovarisch_."

"_Spacibo_."


	34. I've dropped my Brain—My Soul is numb

Prompted by : I've dropped my Brain—My Soul is numb ~Emily Dickinson

.

**Done perfecter on stone**

Illya remained motionless, hidden in the shadows of the alcove. He watched as they dragged Napoleon past him and grimaced at his at what they'd done to him.

He silently stepped out, just a few behind and darted each THRUSH agent. They and Solo fell hard to the floor.

"Hup my friend."

.

**Yesterday—Endowed with Paradise.**

It was only yesterday that he and Napoleon were basking under the sun in St. Thomas, enjoying a brief holiday.

The Russian cursed himself for spotting some 'birds' farther down the beach.

They followed, acting like tourists, but their ruse failed, and Napoleon was caught. Kuryakin was nearly drowned.

.

**An Aptitude for Bird—**

The THRUSH interrogation was brutal as Solo fell unconscious.

"He's not going to tell us anything, lets take him to the boat and dump him out at sea...he can join his partner as fish bait."

Napoleon was dragged down a hall, barely conscious... spotting his partner in the shadows.

.

**I've still a chance to strain**

He moaned as Illya lifted him, draping his arm over the shoulder and a strong arm around his waist.

"Come, we must get out of here before they discover my handiwork."

Illya held tight as Napoleon hobbled beside him.

"Thanks for coming after me."

"Shush, please walk faster, talk later."

.

**I'll shiver, satisfied.**

Illya deposited his partner behind a vine-covered dune, waiting for the remaining agents to exit the boat house. A cool breeze made him shiver, as he squeezed the trigger, picking them off one by one, dragging their bodies out of sight.

"Sometimes they make it too easy," Napoleon smiled.


	35. The Surprise

Prompted by: The Surprise~William Barnes

.

**And there, with stores of harmless joys,**

Young Illya ran smiling, heading home to the dacha.

He'd received an award in mathematics at his school and was the envy

of the other students.

Papa beamed with pride.

"The bullies did not bother me today." Illya said happily. "Perhaps they will stop?"

"We can only hope my son."

.

**And oh! so playsome, oh! so fair.**

Illya was a serious child, but this honor made him smile, much to parents delight.

The boy laughed and played with his little sister; showing her the medal he'd received.

"Can I have it Illie?" Katiya pleaded.

"Of course," he smiled. "Promise me you will be careful with it."

"Da."

**.  
**

**And one skipped on with downcast face,**

The next day at school Illya was set upon by the bullies, dashing his hopes at peace between them.

"Kuryakin, your family are bourgeois elitists. You are a stuck up pig! Show off! You think you are better than us!" They shouted as they punched and kicked him.

He ran...

.

**And oh! so playsome, oh! so fair.**

"Why the tears?" Mama called to him, but needed no answer when she saw her beautiful boy's bruised and bloodied face.

"I am fine," Illya insisted, as she washed his wounds.

"We will see about this."

"Please Mama, nyet?"

"It ends tomorrow, once and for all." She hugged him.

.

**And one pulled on behind her heel,**

Illya's mother stormed to school the next morning with him trailing behind her.

She threatened the headmaster with a wagging finger, swearing to cut off a certain body part that he treasured.

The man promised her the bullying would stop.

Illya, though embarrassed, admired the power in his mother's words.


	36. Was it the proud full sail

Sonnet 86: Was it the proud full sail of his great verse~William Shakespeare

.

**Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write**

Sometimes I wonder about my partner. He's so intelligent, cunning...a perfect spy; if it weren't for the fact that we're best friends.

Spies aren't supposed to have attachments, but ours, I think, makes us stronger.

Illya hides his past, his feelings...his soul; if he'd admit to having one.

.  
**Which nightly gulls him with intelligence,**

He lets free snippets of his vast information...what is truth or falsehoods? Is it from years in the spy business? Old habits...

I trust him with my life, and he trusts me and that's all that counts in the long run.

His personal life doesn't matter; yet still, I'm curious.


	37. The pedigree of Honey

Prompted by : The pedigree of Honey~Emily Dickinson

.

**On spangle journeys to the peak**

It's the journey that matters, not the destination, Napoleon reminded himself

as he trekked through the woods near his family's cabin in the Catskills.

Why he let Illya talk him into this hike, he had no idea. It was raining, muddy and the leaves falling from the trees were slimey...

.

**A Clover, any time, to him,**

"Hush," the Russian said, smiling and silently pointing ahead of them. "See in the thicket...a doe."

Napoleon spotted it with a smile. The rain stopped. Sun burst through the forest canopy. A rainbow of autumn leaves, suddenly spectacular; reds, oranges, yellows.

"Yes, the journey..." he quietly whispered to himself.


	38. A Casualty

Prompted by: A Casualty ~Robert Service

.

**Oh, I've thought and I've thought of him all the day.**

Illya lay in medical; out cold for days now. One of his explosives

caught him unawares...a defective timer. He barely got away.

And now he was laying here, bandaged and plaster-casted.

There was eye movement under those lids of his, and I hoped that was a good sign.

.

**Blown off by a bomb. . . . So, lad, go slow,**

His eyes finally fluttered open; asking what had happened to him.

"You don't remember?"

"Nothing..."

"Your timer went off early.

"Timer?"

"You don't remember trying to blow up the satrap?"

"Nyet."

"Do you recall anything?"

"I remember we went to the 21 Club last night."

"Illya we haven't been there in six months..."

.

**"Tell me, old chap, have I `copped it' bad?"**

The look on Illya's face was one of total bewilderment.

"Napoleon, I remember like it was yesterday...are you sure you

are not just playing a joke on me," he huffed.

"Sorry chum no joke. You really took a bad hit to your head...look at yourself.

You blew yourself up."

.

**'Twould be hard to get knocked out now, you know."**

You were lucky and could have been blown to bits. Maybe you're developing a bit of Kuryakin luck...at least when it comes to explosives.

"What happened?"

Napoleon hesitated, "Can't tell you. The doctors don't know about your memory lapse, and they need to know."

"To blazes with them, Napoleon I need to know."

.

**Says I: "Is there nothing that I can do?"**

Illya looked at himself, taking stock. "I do not remember it all...perhaps you can fill me in on the details of the mission? That might help me remember at least something. It is very unsettling...losing part of one's life."

Napoleon crinkled his nose, pausing in thought. "Let me ask the doctor first."

.

**My feet, please wrap 'em - they're cold . . . they're cold."**

Medical approved. Napoleon's hesitated to tell him an innocent died in the explosion. A woman who was just passing the building...

Illya turned cold at that news; rolling over with his back to Solo.

He said nothing, but the look in Illya's eyes said it all. Napoleon let him be.


	39. The Last Supper

Prompted by: The Last Supper ~Rainer Maria Rilke

**The loneliness of old comes over him**

There are times that I wonder about Alexander Waverly. The man never sleeps, never misses a trick. He is always the sly one, clever in his plans and strategies.

He's getting up there in years, and I hope that I'll live long enough to be half the man he is.

.

**and (like a shot that scatters birds from trees)**

His is a name that strikes fear into the hearts of our enemies, yet to look at him; he seems the kindest, most gentle spoken of men...a grandfatherly type.

Yet there are those who know that within beats the heart of a fierce lion waiting to quickly...unmercifully strike.

.

**everywhere like an all-pervading twilight-hour.**

He watches over us, his agents like a sentinel. And the weight, I know, of sometimes sending people to an untimely death weighs heavily upon his shoulders.

I wonder, will I be able to fill those shoes someday? Will I be deserving of the title, "The Old Man"


	40. Interlude

Prompted by: Interlude~ Amy Lowell

.

**When I have smoothed the seam of the linen I have been working;  
What then?**

His time was almost up and it had been a lovely weekend with Cherie...in fact too lovely. Napoleon felt a tug at his heartstrings, something he hadn't experienced in a long time.

Was he developing 'feelings' for the woman? Not good, at least not for a spy like him.

.

**How much more beautiful is the moon,**

Their last night together was one of perfection. Drinking, eating...making love and enjoying the stars in the sky as they surrounded a large harvest moon.

He tried not to speak of his emotions, changing the topic when it came too close to the mark. Did she feel the same?

.

**Still, Upon your face.**

He stroked her cheek, finally giving into his heart and told her the truth.

"Cherie, I think I'm falling for you, and I hope you're feeling the same way too?"

She looked at him oddly, not saying a word as she pulled him into a passionate kiss.

Was this a yes?

.

**I think, when we have shut and barred the door,**

"Have to be honest; it was just about the sex for me. I thought you understood that?" She smiled innocently.

He sat there with his mouth open. He'd laid his heart out and felt crushed. Was this what he'd done to women all these years?

Napoleon left in a cab.


	41. Morning-Love Sonnet XXVII

Prompted by: Morning (Love Sonnet XXVII)~Pablo Neruda

.

**Naked you are slender as a naked grain of wheat.**

A young Kuryakin lay in bed with his lover, who also happened to be his handler.

It was a risky situation for both of them, but the intensity of their lovemaking was worth it.

She was older than Illya and wise in such ways.

"Katiya," * he sighed, as he rolled over.

.

**As summer in a golden church.**

She reached to him, running her hair through his golden tresses, feeling the heat from his body. She kissed his damp skin, then licked it.

"Mmmm, you taste good," she whispered.

"You taste even better," saying as he turned, smiling and lowering himself to her."

Katiya moaned as his tongue found its spot."

.

**And you withdraw to the underground world.**

The next day she was gone from his bed; a note left on the pillow. She'd given him an assignment. An address, that was all.

He went to it; finding himself caught in a trap. An obvious set up at the German Ambassador's residence.

He was arrested, and deported.

.

**And becomes a naked hand again.**

Illya never saw Katiya again, nor understood her betrayal.

He learned a hard lesson that day...never trust a woman. Keep them at arms length. That was what he would do.

He would resist the temptations of the flesh; that was the best course of action.

This would be his goal.

.

* ref. " First Kill"


	42. Why do I love You, Sir?

Prompted by: Why do I love" You, Sir? ~Emily Dickinson

.

**She cannot keep Her place.**

He knew he had to break it off, but didn't want to be callous about it. Sandy was wild about him. She could be volatile, yet that drew him to her.

Napoleon was worried he was getting too close by seeing her more than the other women in his life.

.

**The Wisdom it be so—**

They lay together in her bed, as her roommate, Taffy, was off with somewhere with Illya.

He would have never put those two together, yet when the Russian saw what he liked, he went after it without any urging. That was the way he preferred it.

Sandy was the aggressive one.

.

**And reasons not contained—  
—Of Talk—**

She cried, throwing her shoe at him as he dressed himself.

"Napoleon Solo I hate you! How can you do this to me?"

"Sandy, it has to be. Can't risk you being hurt. If someone found out about you, you'd become my weak spot...you'd be a target."

"Me?"

"Yes you."

.  
**  
I love Thee—**

Sandy watched as he walked out her door for the last time, and sat staring at his framed photo still on her coffee table.

Inscribed, "With love, Napoleon." She thought that meant something, but now, perhaps not.

"I love you Napoleon Solo," she whispered, throwing the picture into the fireplace.

.

Note: based on characters from "The Spy With My Face."


	43. Dream Song 106: 28 July

Prompted by: Dream Song 106: 28 July ~John Berryman

.

**and culminated in an abundant thing,**

They wrestled in bed, caught up in the throes of passion. Two people on opposite sides together because of lust, and the thrill of sleeping with the enemy.

"Napoleon darling, it would be so easy to kill you," Angelique purred.

"And for me as well," he smiled, driving his lips onto hers.

.

**again today, glaring at her bandages & locks:**

Illya watched with disdain as Napoleon helped Angelique from the wreckage of her car, wrapping his handkerchief around her bleeding wrist.

"She tried to run you down, and still you help her?"

"It's good to have respect between enemies _tovarisch_."

"Trying to kill you is respect?"

"Ah, but she didn't kill me."

.

**animal nature so far as to allow**

He kissed her on the lips as a taxi pulled up alongside them.

"_à bientôt,_" she whispered into his ear, nibbling on his lobe.

"You really shouldn't do that...I might not let you go."

"Oh please," Illya groaned, "let her go."

"Russian, you'll never understand romance."

"Not your kind madam," Illya sneered.


	44. At leisure is the Soul

Prompted by: At leisure is the Soul~Emily Dickinson

.

**Without a thing to do—**

Napoleon Solo sat at his desk playing with a pile of paper clips, twisting them to resemble little stick figures.

"You really are that bored," his partner said, firing a rubber band at the clips and knocking them over like bowling pins.

"Look who's talking chum." Solo sneered at the destruction.

.

**To Help its Vacant Hands—**

"Come my friend, to the gymnasium," Illya smiled, "a workout will take care of vacant hands."

Napoleon grinned as they walked from their office. "You're on _tovarisch_. I always like giving you a good thrashing...for fun that is."

Illya flashed one surly look that said, "Not today _Amerikanskii_."


	45. Heaven—is what I cannot reach

Prompted by:"Heaven"—is what I cannot reach!~Emily Dickinson

.

**That—"Heaven" is—to Me!**

Will you look at that sky Tovarisch? Now this is a bit of heaven, pink sands, palm trees and," he held up his glass, "drinks with little umbrellas in them."

"What is that concoction you are drinking Napoleon, it looks rather nauseating."

"A mai tai," Solo grinned.

"That sounds ridiculous."

.

**There—Paradise—is found!**

"Don't you drink anything other than vodka, remember variety is the spice of life," Napoleon quipped as he watched a bikini-clad girl slither past.

"Drinking while on a hot sandy beach is not one of my preferences."

His words fell on deaf ears; his partnerwas already in pursuit.

.

**That spurned us—Yesterday!**

Napoleon returned in a few minutes, looking red in the face, or at least one side of it.

"You were turned down...the Solo charm did not win her over."

"No," he said rubbing his cheek. :Say let's go to the bar, the odds will be better there."

Illya snickered at the solution.


	46. The Catsup Bottle

Prompted by: The Catsup Bottle~Ogden Nash

.

**First a little **

Illya and Mark sat together at the bar pouring and downing drink after drink. A challenge had been issued and Illya accepted. The Brit could out drink the Russian; heir poison gin.

As each libation was swallowed, the shot glass was turned upside down on the bar.

Over twenty there now.

.

**Then a lottle**

One by one the Russian matched him; Mark felt the effects of the liquor.

"Oooooy mate, I was raised on gin, 'ow come you not flat out from it?"

Illya hiccuped before answering. "I lived in London fer' three years...re-remember?"

"Damn," Mark forgot.

They both passed out. A tie.


	47. The Petit Vieux

Prompted by: The Petit Vieux~ Robert Service

.

**I'll assume a dashing air, laugh with loud Ha! ha! . . .**

Napoleon Solo stepped from the dressing room in Del Floria's reserved for regular cliente. He did a quick turn, modeling his new double-breasted suit in the triple mirror.

"You cut a dashing figure Mr. Solo," Del smiled.

"Thanks to you sir."

The tailor smiled, appreciating the compliment.

.

**Scotches daily, gayly quaff, puff a fierce cigar.**

Solo headed over to the Mask Club, meeting his partner there for drinks and dinner. A well deserved evening, enjoying each others company and to tell stories to the younger agents like a pair of old war horses.

"Well maybe not old," Napoleon thought, checking himself in the mirror, again.

.

**And in fashionable togs to the races go,**

"_Bozhe moy_, not another new suit?" Illya blurted out as his partner seated himself at the bar.

"What's wrong with a new suit? You could do with one...or two yourself."

"There is plenty of life left in this one," Illya swore, shoving his hand in his pocket and tearing it.

.

**Sow your nice tame oats and then . . . Hi, boys! Let 'er rip.**

After much liquor and passing on dinner, Napoleon had convinced the Russian to order a brand new suit.

Illya stood there in the dressing room, just a little unsteady, as his measurements were taken.

"It'll be ready Thursday," Del said. "What color you want again?"

"Black."

Napoleon rolled his eyes...


	48. The Tramps

Prompted by: The Tramps ~Robert Service

.

**Along the road to Anywhere, the wide world at our feet -**

Alexander Waverly sat beside his old friend, now too feeble to move.

He sat staring into space, listening as a book was read or a story recounted.

Those gentle reminders were needed now to remember the past

all the glories and failures they shared.

Carlo closed his eyes, trying to recall the details.

.

**Along the road to Anywhere we watched the sunsets pale?**

It pained Alexander to see his friend slowly fading away; a man once vibrant and sharp as a blade. He helped found U.N.C.L.E. so many years ago, and now he was disappearing one memory at a time until he no longer knew those around him.

Carlo was lost.

.

**The tragic road to Anywhere, such dear, dim years ago.**

He died while Alex held his hand, giving strength for one last journey down the longest road of all.

"You'll find peace when you reach your destination old friend, "Waverly whispered as Carlo took his last fragile breath.

Would this be his end as well? Would there be a hand to hold his?


	49. Bond And Free

Prompted by: Bond And Free~Robert Frost

.

**For Thought has a pair of dauntless wings.**

Napoleon Solo truly believed in his endless luck. His optimism wouldn't let him think otherwise, that is until now.

The car he'd been driving out in the middle of nowhere went careening of an embankment when he'd swerved to avoid a deer.

He woke up in pain, and complete darkness.

.

**But Thought has shaken his ankles free.**

No getting to his communicator as his arms were pinned. The only part of his body free were his feet.

"Fat lot of good that's going to do me."

Wincing as he took a breath; he racked his brain for a plan of escape, but his luck had run out.

.

**Back past the sun to an earthly room.**

He had no idea how much time had passed, as he lost track of the sunrises and sunsets. Thirst was driving him into an hallucinatory haze.

Every sound around him magnified... the wind, the rustling of the leaves, creature skittering past. There was a familiar noise in the sky, but distant.

.

**To find fused in another star.**

Napoleon felt himself lifted, though his eyes were blurred and throat parched.

"_Bozhe moy_, I thought I had lost you."

He awoke in a hospital bed with only broken ribs; seeing the Russian asleep at his bedside.

Napoleon smiled; his luck was intact, and its name was Illya Kuryakin.


	50. In A Disused Graveyard

Prompted by: In A Disused Graveyard~Robert Frost

.

**"The ones who living come today**

Napoleon Solo walked among the old headstones in a graveyard that dated back to the Revolutionary war. He paused reading name after name, noting the short life spans of every one of them.

"Times were hard back then." His thought shattered as a bullet ricocheted off a headstone, chipping it.

.

**How no one dead will seem to come.**

"That wasn't very respectful," he called out as he ducked down low.

"Oh yeah, well respect this Solo." Another gunshot rang out, this time whizzing by the Americans head, too close for comfort.

Napoleon suddenly devised a plan, as he threw himself to the ground, his limbs laying awkwardly.

.

**I think they would believe the lie.**

He heard the crunching of dried leaves on the ground, with the

the footsteps stopping beside him. A pistol cocked.

"So long Solo, not as good as everyone thinks you are...are you."

Napoleon rolled over, getting off the first shot.

"Oh yes I am." He smirked, brushing off clothing.


	51. All My Life

Prompted by: All My Life~Regina Derieva

**All my life**  
**I sought**  
**an angel.**  
**And he appeared**  
**in order to say:**

**"I am no angel !**"

.

Napoleon Solo had many close calls over the years, some with the bad guys and some with the ladies, and ladies who were the bad guys as well.

He knew better, but there was something about Angelique that drew him to her, and she to him. They took the meaning of friendly adversaries to the extreme.

He wondered if one day his guardian angel who had reminded him so often that he was no angel, would finally abandon him.

The agent shrugged as he downed his glass of Scotch, thinking he'd worry about that when and if it ever happened.

.

note: this is a change of pace, a full drabble instead of a half, since the poem was so short.


	52. Immrama

**Prompted by: Immrama~Paul Muldoon**

.

**From the mud-walled cabin behind the mountain**

The agent watched through binoculars, a pair of men talking within a poorly built hovel on the outskirts of Córdoba, Argentina

One an older man, of Latin origins held his hat in his hands, groveling to the white man..

He was hawkish in his features, and his posture military like.

.

**The farm where he was first hired out,**

Illya scrambled through the dense growth of the jungle in search of his partner. He'd gathered the information needed to prove who that hawk-faced man was while the Russian posed as a worker on the man's plantation.

And once Kuryakin discovered his true identity, he fled with the news.

.

**It became personal when it did.**

His memories of long ago were again triggered by it. A concentration camp, the trainloads of people who came but never left alive. The children he'd tried to save, and the friend he'd lost. Irina... *

It made his breath quicken, and his heart pound as he began to run.

.

**That's him on the verandah, drinking rum with a man who might be a Nazi,**

"Illya, over here,"Solo called. "What's wrong?"

"That man, kill him."

"Why?"

"He is a murderer of thousands," Illya gasped.

"How do you know?"

"I know..."

Napoleon Solo raised his carbine, drawing a bead.

"Illya I can't..."

"Then I will." He grabbed the gun and fired. It was done...


	53. You're right—the way is narrow

Prompted by: You're right—"the way is narrow"~EmilyDickinson

.

**That "enter in—thereat"—**

Do you ever wonder about going to heaven tovarisch?

"No. You forget, i do not believe in such a thing." Illya whispered. "Why do you think of this now?"

"Well we're sort of trapped by gunmen, we're out of ammo. It might be a good time to prepare to meet one's maker."

.

**Termed by the **_**Brokers**_—**"**_**Death**_**"!**

"I do not fear death my friend, though I do not wish to die. I have met him many times, and have turned him away."

"You believe in death... who is an angel by the way, why wouldn't you believe in heaven?"

"Do not try to trick me," Illya complained.

.

**And after **_**that**_—**there's Heaven—**

The Russian reached into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette lighter, and opening the hem of his jacket, he drew out a fuse.

Attaching one to the other, he lit it and tossed it quickly, blowing up their attackers.

"You were saying something about an angel, Napoleon?" Illya smiled.


	54. On A Picture Of A Black Centaur

On A Picture Of A Black Centaur By Edmund Dulac~William Butler Yeats

.

**What wholesome sun has ripened is wholesome food to eat,**

Napoleon Solo stared across the table at his gorgeous dining companion.

She was brunette, svelt and unfortunately, Alexander Waverly's niece.

He wasn't sure why the Old Man charged him with keeping her entertained, knowing the Solo reputation as an incorrigible ladies man.

Who was he to refuse the request of his boss.

.

**I bring full-flavoured wine out of a barrel found**

He filled her glass again with the bottle of Brunello di Montalcino, a red wine from the vineyards of Montalcino in Italy. It was limpid and had a brilliant garnet color, much like her eyes as they twinkled in the candlelight.

"Napoleon Solo, are you trying to get me drunk?" Maude smiled.

.

**And there is none so fit to keep a watch and keep**

"Would that I could my dear," he smiled charmingly. "But I've made a promise... have to behave myself."

"I won't tell," she pouted.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to refuse something too good to be true.

"Aw, Napoleon, I was just kidding. Wouldn't want you to lose your job..."


	55. What Twigs We held by

Prompted by: What Twigs We held by—Emily Dickinson

.

_**To take Momentum—**_

Napoleon Solo ran across the green with the intention of getting into a helicopter sitting there with its blades turning slowly.

The pilot stepped out for a smoke, and was darted by the UNCLE agent. Shots rang out as Solo ducked, climbing into the pilot's seat, hitting the switch to take off.

.

**So scant, so eminently small**

Everything looked so small as the chopper flew into the sky, but it wasn't really. He'd have a devil of a time searching for his missing partner...they were separated.

Was Illya captured or not?

A minute later there was an explosion, telling him the Russian was up to his usual tricks.

.

**The Discs that satisfied Our Sight—**

Napoleon spotted him running from the building, heading for a stand of trees, and doubled back for a pickup.

Illya jumped, grabbing hold of the landing strut as the chopper hovered, leaving him dangling precariously as it rose.

Pulling himself up and into the cockpit, he snickered, "What kept you?"


	56. English In 1819

Prompted by: English In 1819~Percy Bysshe Shelley

.

**Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know, **

They were running for their lives in the Belgian Congo, as the ruling forces had changed places, and UNCLE was no longer welcome. The former prime minister had been deposed and sent to Katanga.

Napoleon and Illya followed, on board a lorry, in hopes of sneaking past the checkpoints.

.

**An army, which liberticide and prey **

The soldiers and fighting were brutal, bodies scattered everywhere... women and children murdered as well because they were of the wrong tribe.

And nothing could be done...

The agents managed to survive, trekking through the jungle, once passed the rich mining area of Katanga, they crossed the border to Zambia.

.

**A Senate, Time's worst statute unrepealed,- **

A pickup was arranged via land line, with a chopper arriving in hours.

"Revolutions are usually bloody," Illya said, obviously shaken, "but not like this."

"Hopefully they won't happen anymore someday _tovarisch_, and things will be resolved peacefully.

"You are ever the optimist Napoleon," Illya shook his head, still angered.


	57. Tourist

Prompted by: Tourist ~Robert Service

.

**I sought a shop wherein they sell**

lllya stepped up to the counter in a small shop in Lorraine, offering the password to the counter-girl, his presumed contact.

"_Je voudrais mouchoir_," he asked in French. He indeed had a cold and could have used one.

"_Oui Monsieur_, we have handkerchiefs."

That was not the correct response...

.

**With doubt I scratched my hoary head;**

This was now a problem. The code was the right one, and there was no one else in the shop. Perhaps she misunderstood him.

"I need a handkerchief," he repeated. "My _UNCLE _sent me here."

She looked at him in confusion. "Qui est votre Uncle?"

Somehow he'd made a mistake...

.

**She watched me with a smile.**

He pulled a paper from his pocket with an address scrawled on it by Napoleon. The Russian studied it, realizing he'd read the numbers incorrectly thanks to his partner's chicken scratch.

He sneezed, buying a handkerchief after all, slipping francs from his pocket... paying the girl as she looked at him strangely.


	58. Many a phrase has the English language

Today a triple 100 word drabble, for a change...

Prompted by: Many a phrase has the English language ~Emily Dickinson

**.**

**Murmuring, like old Caspian Choirs,**

Napoleon whispered sweet nothings into the ear of his paramour, one whom he'd made a commitment to and she was April Dancer.

He cared for her, more than he wanted to admit. After a little jockeying between he and Illya. She chose.

Luckily his partner was ready to move on, so no harm done to his so-called non-existent feelings.

"Napoleon darling, that isn't really necessary. I know your standard lines, and don't need to hear them. I want to hear the real you whispering in my ear.

If there was ever a moment for coitus interruptus, it was then.

.

**On my simple sleep—**

Napoleon didn't know what to say. He'd been talking that way to women for so long. He rolled over, lost in thought on that realization.

"You're upset, "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure who the real me is. I've been with so many women that it became like a game. I don't think I can talk to a woman in bed any other way."

"You goose! Every time we make love, those lines are becoming a little redundant. I'd rather not have our sex life reduced to that please?"

"You're right April," he pulled her to him, whispering differently to her.

.

**Say it again, Saxton!**

April giggled at first, hearing these new words...special words, and her mood changed to one of pure passion.

Napoleon felt her excitement instantly and acted upon it. He made love to her in a way he'd never made love to a woman before.

When they were sated, they lay together in each other's arms. He kissed her lightly on the forehead, saying nothing at first.

"So was that more like it?"

April's eyes widened, finding herself not quite able to speak.

"Mmmm, what do you think darling?" She smiled, as she snuggled beside him.

That night became a memory as the next day they ventured off to different parts of the world, focusing on UNCLE business.

.

authors note: this is a follow-up to "The New Kid on The Block," and "Twelve Days and counting."


	59. Cirque D'Hiver

Prompted by: Cirque D'Hiver~Elizabeth Bishop

.

**He bears a little dancer on his back.**

Napoleon watch his partner cavort on the horses back Every time he saw the Russian do his riding tricks, he was amazed. And today of all days, he did it with a blanket of snow, a winter circus perhaps as his backdrop.

He wondered where he'd learned such unusual skills.

.

**another spray of artificial roses.**

Magdeline, the owner of the ranch let the two agents stay there, offering them shelter when they'd been caught up in a sudden blizzard.

She took them in after they knocked at her front door, shivering from the cold. Maddy fed and clothed them as their city slicker clothes dried.

.

**that pierces both her body and her soul**

In payment for her hospitality, they helped her in the barns.

She saw the way Illya was with the horses and knew they touched his soul as they pierced hers as well, and told him to saddle up and go for a ride if he wished.

He gladly obliged her...  
.

**canters, then clicks and stops, and looks at me.**

The chestnut mare touched something deep within Illya, drawing him to

cherished memories of long ago when he lived on the steppes with the _Kubanskiye Kаzaki. _

The horse looked him in the eye, just as his horse Grom had. Old Mykola told him that had to be, between a Cossack horse and a rider.*

**we stare and say, "Well, we have come this far."**

"Where did you get this horse?"

"Took some wrangling but I got him from Poland. He's a Cossack horse.

"He is that," Illya smiled, blessed to have ridden one again.

The agents left as the weather improved...Illya took time to say goodbye to another Kazak friend...

* inspired by chapter 20 "The Randomness of Life" and soon to be published "Zaporoche"


	60. The Sonnets To Orpheus: X

Prompted by: The Sonnets To Orpheus: X ~Rainer Maria Rilke

.

**Or those other ones that are open wide**

Napoleon reached as far as he could, trying to grab hold of Illya's hand.

He was dangling on the edge of an Oubliette. If he fell, he'd be lost forever... there was no way out, only in.

"Hang in there," Solo grunted.

"I am losing my grip," Illya's voice echoed.

.

**I welcome-the mouths that burst open after**

Solo pulled with all his might, dragging the Russian up and over the edge. Together they lay gasping for breath.

"I thought I was surely going to die."

"Not if I could help it chum, not today."

They looked at each other, bursting out laughing...a nervous release no doubt.

.

**in the deep calm of the human face.**

Their eyes met and in that moment, no words were needed.

Napoleon had saved his friend's life, and Illya would do the same for him the next time.

.

They were more than partners, or friends... what they had touched the soul, they were '_rodnaya dusha_kindred spirits.'_" Illya had once said...


	61. That is solemn we have ended

A triple drabble, inspired by this two stanza poem:

.

Prompted by: That is solemn we have ended~Emily Dickinson

.

**That is solemn we have ended  
Be it but a Play  
Or a Glee among the Garret  
Or a Holiday**

**Or a leaving Home, or later,**  
**Parting with a Word**  
**We have understood for better**  
**Still to be explained.**

**.**

Illya Kuryakin stood with his partner at the graveside of the latest UNCLE agent to have died in the line of duty. The man had saved his life, taking the bullet meant for him.

It should be him laying down there in the cold earth. Tomorrow it might be him...

"For someone who can be pretty cold-hearted at times, you're bothered by this one aren't you... that's not to say I'm not too, but this isn't like you. You seem more than your usual melancholy self," Napoleon said as they walked slowly among the tombstones.

"For pity's sake, can you not just leave it alone? That man died in my place." Illya spoke harshly.

"And how many times have you saved my life doing what he did, the only difference is you lived."

"Point taken. Now can we go for a drink...my Russian soul craves one right now."

They disappeared to the nearest tavern, hiding in a booth. Drinks ordered, toasts made, then silence. Napoleon said nothing, knowing Kuryakin needed it.

A few rounds later, Illya spoke. "Thank you for tolerating me and my moods. I feel a bit better now. We have our jobs to do and he was simply doing his. We protect each other, that is part of it. We do not wish to die, but if we must, we must."

"That's rather fatalistic, don't you think?"

"I am just being Russian, you know that my friend

"Yes I suppose I do, _tovarisch." _Napoleon smiled, tossing down money to pay the tab.

"Come on chum, back to headquarters, I have some reports that need typing," he chuckled.

"Ah, a price to be paid for Dr. Solo's services?" Illya half smiled.

"Moi, charge for my help?"

Illya gave his usual reaction, rolling his eyes at his partner.


	62. What Almost Every Woman Knows

Prompted by: What Almost Every Woman Knows Sooner Or Later~ Ogden Nash

.

**They think they can cure everything with a great big kiss,**

Secretaries gathered at a back corner table in the commissary, their voices hushed.

"I don't get these agents, thinking they can love us and leave us, it's not right."

"You're new here. The guys go out on missions and sometimes don't come back, they live for today. Don't you get it?"

.

**you were trying to sacrifice, or immolate them,**

"What about us, we have feelings. I mean Napoleon is a dream, but he's

dumped on me a few times."

"I should be so lucky," another said, "He can dump on me any time."

What about the Russian?

"The Ice Prince, too cold for me. Anyone here been out with him?"

.

**cold cream on your face or applying a touch of lipstick they seem to  
think that you are up to some kind of black magic like a priestess of Voodoo.**

One spoke up, wearing hardly any makeup, but had a natural beauty.

"I was with him a few times, very nice...and romantic."

"You went out with him? A plain Jane like you, you're lying."

"That's what he said you'd all say. He thinks you're a bunch of gossips."

.

**And when you are alone with them they ignore all the minor courtesies**

"That's what he said? Things like that won't get him any dates, no matter how cute he is.

"Well I don't really care what you say, I had a nice time with him and he was a real gentleman."

"Wait, you didn't go to bed with him."

"A lady doesn't say."

.

**and as for airs and graces, they uttlerly lack them,**

"Good afternoon," Solo and Kuryakin interrupted, passing by the coffee klatch.

"Why good afternoon," they all crooned back, blushing at being caught in their conversation.

"Oh my gawd," one whispered, "they're so...cute."

"We can hear you ladies," Illya called out. "And that's handsome..." Napoleon added.

Nervous laughter ended their chatter.

The comments had silenced the gossip...for now.


	63. The Curse Of Cromwell

(This one is a combination of half and full drabbles, just for a change)

.

Prompted by : The Curse Of Cromwell~William Butler Yeats

.

**And there is an old beggar wandering in his pride - -**

"Why must I always masquerade as the street bum." Illya whispered into his communicator.

"Because you stink better than I do?" Napoleon snickered.

"I asked you a legitimate question and you joke."

"Well at one time it was true, you being stinky that is."

"How so?" Illya took the bait.

.

**They have schooling of their own, but I pass their schooling by,**

"When you were first with UNCLE, I heard you didn't use deodorant."

"Who told you that?'

"Some of the ladies in the London office..."

That is ridiculous! We were taught basic hygiene even in the backward country of Russia, " he protested sarcastically. "I used _Rexona_ antiperspirant, known world wide. Though commercial products were hard to come by, natural substitutes were used, baking soda or beeswax mixed with essence of flowers or fruit."

"Illya, antiperspirant is not deodorant..."

"Oh," he said, realizing his partner was correct. "Well...I use deodorant now, and I repeat my question, why must I play the bum?"

.

**Can pay the poet for a verse and hear the fiddle sound,**

"What can I say, you play the part so well," Solo chuckled. "You have a talent for these sort of things, as you do with languages.

"That is a backhanded compliment if I ever heard one. Thank you, I think."

"You're welcome...Stinky."

"Again?" Illya moaned at his partner's laughter.

.

**And when I pay attention I must out and walk**

"Enough joking at my expense, next time this gig is yours. I think you will make an exceptional bum, or better still a drunkard. You can use one of your many damaged suits to look the part of a fool on a bender. I think that look will work quite nicely for you."

"Not funny." Napoleon groused.

"Ah, different when the shoe is on the left foot now is it not?"

"That's other foot."

"The right foot?"

"When will you get these things Illya? You've lived in New York how long now.?

It was Solo's turn to hear snickering laughter...


	64. Enough

Prompted by: Enough~Sara Teasdale

** .**

**The same great roof of stars is dim.**

Illya Kuryakin stood on the fire escape outside his window. A cold night and he could see the stars, seeming so distant, and he wondered were they the same back home... seen so long ago.

Missing Russia; he tried to shut out the city din... remembering the quiet of Moskva.

.

**Blow by like music over me.**

It began to snow heavily, muffling the sounds of the city.

Illya closed his eyes, pretending to be on a balcony back home, letting the flakes land on his face.

Their stings played a symphony of awareness that washed over him until a cold wind blew.

"In from your dream..."


	65. The Choice

Changing things up a bit, two half-drabbles followed by a drabble and a half..

Prompted by: The Choice~Robert Service .

.

**"Now which shall be the best way,**

Napoleon sat behind the wheel of his jeep in the middle of nowhere, staring at his map in dismay.

He turned it around trying to make sense of the legend, still not quite sure where he was.

Opening his communicator, he called his partner, afraid to say he was lost.

.

**And then I came to Two ways,**

"Do not tell me you are lost again," Illya moaned.

"Sorry chum, but I think I am. Can you hang in a little longer?"

"Do I have a choice?" Are there any landmarks around you?"

"Well there's a cactus...looks like a vulture, and a prickly vulture flying overhead."

.

**And each was luring me:**

"Really? Napoleon drive straight to where the vulture is circling."

Ten minutes later he spotted the Russian among the tumbleweeds.

"About time."

"Hey, it just proves I wasn't really lost." Napoleon grinned, "though I've never navigated by vulture before.

"He was circling, anticipating me dying of boredom waiting for you."

.

**My pitiless, my doom way;**

The Russian tossed his gear in the back of the jeep. "Admit it, you were lost again."

"Yeah, I guess I really was, sorry."

Illya settled in as the jeep took off in a cloud of dust.

"I should have known, when you showed up two hours late for what should have been a half hour trip."

"Really? A half-hour? Nooo..."

Illya didn't even bother rolling his eyes this time.

The sun was beginning to set, and the two men became silent, until Kuryakin spoke.

"Stoi...let me take over the wheel. I do not want to spend the night driving in circles in the desert at night."

"Fine,"Solo huffed, this time he was the one rolling his eyes.

They switched places, and Illya took off, heading in the right direction, pointing it out on the map to his partner, and holding up his compass.

"Happy?" Napoleon asked.

"Immensely."


	66. Terrible abstractions

Prompted by: The Terrible Abstractions ~Vernon Scannell

** .**

**He heard behind him what the hunted hear.**

There were shouts, "this way"..."he's over there," They crashed  
through the forest with the subtly of a bull elephant. There was no skill,  
no stalking. He was their target, and they knew they'd catch him.

He was tight inside, soaked with the sweat of fear.

Eventually they would find him...

.

**And he became the prey, the quivering deer.**

He was running for his life, his chest heaving for air as he turned to see if those after him were still there.

He was afraid of being hunted, caught then slaughtered like an animal and fear,

the threat he knew all too well.

His eyes darted in every direction.

.

**By beasts who padded on four legs or two.**

Rain fell, it was freezing cold and he, dressed only in his t-shirt feeling like a giant bullseye was painted on his back.

He was weaponless, his gun lost and had no means to defend himself against those who hunted him relentlessly in the shadowed dark of the woods.

**But not of what his hairy forebear knew.**

Feelings within him were akin to a deer being hunted, a sense of panic, the will to escape, darting in every direction, whilst ducking under limb,and leaping over fallen trees. Stumbling...

Resisting an urge to cry out, and freezing within a thicket...holding his breath lest it be heard.

.

**But cannot keep the murderous shadows out.**

He fell to the ground and there his pursuers found him. Holding their rifles and raising them, preparing to kill an UNCLE agent.

Shots rang out, downing one, while the other ducked for cover. He too was quickly dispatched.

"You okay partner mine?"

"What took you so long?"


	67. The Ditch is dear to the Drunken man

A full drabble today, inspired by a short poem...

Prompted by: The Ditch is dear to the Drunken man ~Emily Dickinson

.

**The Ditch is dear to the Drunken man**  
**For is it not his Bed—**  
**His Advocate—his Edifice?**  
**How safe his fallen Head**  
**In her disheveled Sanctity—**  
**Above him is the sky—**  
**Oblivion bending over him**  
**And Honor leagues away.**

**.**

Napoleon searched for his partner, knowing he was in a bad way.

He finally found him at a bar in Little Russia, drowning his sorrows at the loss of another innocent.

Illya sensed his presence, and turned, looking up to him from his glass of vodka;there was a half-empty bottle on the bar in front of him.

"Come on buddy, I know it feels awful, but wasn't your doing."

"It always feeeeels like it isssh."

The Russian's eyes rolled, and he passed out into in partner's waiting arms.

"No loss of honor here my friend. Not your fault."


	68. Rhetorical Questions

Prompted by: Rhetorical Questions~Hugo Williams

**.  
Do you think I mind**

He did it again, intervened when i was about to kiss her, turning the woman towards him as if I were not even there.

Not that I really wanted to kiss her, she was not exactly my type, but she needed to be given the confidence she needed to seduce the guard.

**when you tell me what to do**

You tell me I need to play the field more, but that is just not me. I cannot go from bed to bed like you. I need something more, it has to be meaningful … something that would last for more than at least a night.

Eventually she would tire of me, not being around and I would be tossed aside I suppose. But for a while we would have something significant.

**and you set off alone**

You who are off with a different woman each night, should not judge me. I am content with my life, the women in it and the way things are.

When I make love to a woman, it needs to feel permanence for as long as I can keep it that way...

Stop setting me up with dates Napoleon, as I am content.


	69. Weary Waitress

Prompted by: Weary Waitress~Robert Service

**.**

**Thank God it's near to closing time,**  
** -Merciful midnight chime.**

He'd waited for her until closing, she was tired and he was horny. Not a good combination. The Russian smiled at her, setting her senses tingling as he always could. She'd find the energy, she always did when he was in town.

She'd missed him...was that a good thing?

.

**Yet not too sleepy to forget**  
** Her cheap alarm to set.**

Their lovemaking was intense as always, and they spoke little. She'd learned not to ask where he'd been or what he'd done. Maybe he was a spy or something, or maybe he was just a gigolo. Still he was a tender lover...she needed that.

His embrace was enough for her.

.

**And yet he is too shy to speak,**  
** Far less to touch her cheek.**

Sometimes it seemed that he was too shy to talk, and expressed himself with his caresses, his tongue...those lips and haunting eyes. They were so expressive and helped her to let her thoughts wander about him.

He asked no questions of her other than wanting to know if he pleased her...

.

**-How wistfully romance can haunt**  
** A city restaurant!**

He would leave early in the morning, never saying when or if he'd return. When working, she'd watch for him, there, walking through the restaurant door, looking for a different kind of meal. It wasn't just sex he craved, his soul was searching for something meaningful, warding off his loneliness.

.

**A sense of Spring and singing rills,**  
** -Love mid the daffodils.**

It was a Spring day when he returned, his face was bruised; he refused to say how it happened, and did not look to go to bed, just wanting to walk, enjoying the flowers...life.

He'd changed, distant now, saying good bye to her.

Somehow she knew he'd never return.


	70. You, Andrew Marvell

Prompted by: You, Andrew Marvell~Archibald MacLeish

.

**And ever climbing shadow grow**

They walked into the poorly lit building, both men on edge

not knowing what they'd find.

The the occupants were gone, members of the Black Jade gang, but

it was their leader, Chang Kuanghao they wanted.

Napoleon searched upstairs, rifling through paperwork... something the international courts could use against the man.

.

**The mountains over Persia change**

Chang Kuanghao had expanded his business from drugs to human trafficking and needed to be stopped. He was feared in Chinatown, but his partners, the Russian mob made him formidable. *

Illya had killed the man's sister, and were Kuryakin's identity ever found out by Chang, he was as good as dead.*

.

**Few travelers in the westward pass**

It has been a long journey for the agents, as they tried to track Chang down and this place, they were sure they'd finally had him cornered. Chang eluded them again, it was as if he knew they were coming. That could only mean one thing...a mole inside UNCLE. But who?

.

**Of evening widen and steal on**

They continued their search of Chang's hideaway, with Illya walking slowly down to the basement. The only sound were his barely perceptible footsteps on the stairs. There was an odd odor, one that was familiar and reached back into memories he'd long suppressed as a child. The scent of death.

.

**High through the clouds and overblown**

The floor felt wet beneath his feet, almost slick and he crept along the walls, touching his hand to them to keep from slipping in the darkness. His fingers finally found a light switch, and he opened it...

Gasping at the scene...gagging, he vomited. This was something he could not have expected.

.

**The sails above the shadowy hulls**

He tore up the stairs as he broke into a sweat. Shaking, he ran straight into his partner.

Napoleon grabbed Illya by the arms. "Are you all right, you look like you've just seen a ghost.

Illya slowed his breathing, still trembling from the sight. "_Many_ ghosts. "They are dead...all _dead._"

.

**The low pale light across that land**

Napoleon walked down the stairs with trepidation, dreading to look upon what had shaken his partner up so badly. Illya joined him on the steps.

"Are you sure you're okay pal?"

"I have to be, this is something we must do together. Prepare yourself for a gruesome shock moy drug."

.

**The shadow of the night comes on.**

Napoleon too gasped at the sight. The room was filled with dozens of women and young girls. Changs stable had been left there to die alone in the darkness.

The agents walked among the dead, eerily lit by a dim light, when they heard it.

A soft moan...someone was _alive._

_._

_*_ ref to "The Un-Happy New Year's Affair."


	71. The Medal

Prompted by: The Medal by John Dryden

.

The very last line of a long poem...

**"_Pudet haec opprobrium vobis. Et dici potuisse et non potuisse refelli."_**

_("This is embarrassing for you to reproach. And to have been able to be called, and could not have been refuted)_

.

"I hate this," Napoleon whispered out the side of his mouth.

"Me too, but it must be," Illya responded. "We have no choice."

"Why does it have to be so...public?"

"UNCLE must have it's pound of flesh I suppose? Still Napoleon, it is but a small price to pay."

"Risking our lives isn't payment enough?"

"Apparently not..."

They walked to the daïs set up in the gymnasium; climbing the steps, they turned to face the crowd.

Everyone hushed as Kennedy spoke...

"In honor of meritorious service, and having gone above and beyond the call of duty, I hereby award..."


	72. Thin People

Prompted by: The Thin People~Sylvia Plath

.

**They are always with us, the thin people**  
**Meager of dimension as the gray people**

**Were small that they famished and**  
**Grew so lean and would not round**

Illya watched as the crowds in Red Square shuffled by, moving with little purpose, as if they walked just for the sake of it, with no destination. Thin people with thin lives, life a daily drudge without hope.

Yet he was not one of them.

.

**'Out their stalky limbs again though peach**

**Plumped the bellies of the mice**

**Under the meanest table.**  
**It was during the long hunger-battle**

It was a daily task to work for so little money, and have no food in the State run stores to feed their hungry mouths. The black market served those who were clever, but their risk was two-fold...being caught by Secret Police or at the hands of the Vor.

.

**Out their stalky limbs again though peace**  
**Plumped the bellies of the mice**

**Under the meanest table.**  
**It was during the long hunger-battle**

Illya's training was to be put to use. Kill someone...a traitor. He did not know who just yet as that was to be revealed. It weighed heavily on him.

Why could there not be another way?

He was unlike other GRU agents...he felt guilt. He cared for innocents.

.

**Empty of complaint, forever**  
**Drinking vinegar from tin cups: they wore**

**The insufferable nimbus of the lot-drawn**  
**Scapegoat. But so thin,**

It was as Illya surmised, a test. He was to kill a man, one who had trained alongside him less than a year ago. He was deemed a traitor, that was what was said.

A man ready to defect. Kill him they said, he is an enemy.

.

**Keep from cutting fat meat**  
**Out of the side of the generous moon when it**

**Set foot nightly in her yard**  
**Until her knife had pared**

Nicholaí Alexandrov had a wife and newborn son.

How could Illya in good conscience do the deed he'd been ordered to do. They were not defecting, and though the man was an agent, his life was being forfeited by GRU to test young Kuryakin.

.

**The moon to a rind of little light.**  
**Now the thin people do not obliterate**

**Themselves as the dawn**  
**Grayness blues, reddens, and the outline**

No matter what his training told Illya to do, he couldn't murder this little family in cold blood. At risk to his own life, he would save them and hope the ruse he'd devised would save his own life.

They'd head for the Finnish border through the Karelian Isthmus to freedom.

.

**Of the world comes clear and fills with color.**  
**They persist in the sunlit room: the wallpaper**

**Frieze of cabbage-roses and cornflowers pales**  
**Under their thin-lipped smiles,**

Nadia was afraid, at first refusing. She hated what her husband was and hated Illya. Reason finally took hold and they left with nothing except the will to save their lives. It would be dangerous, but staying meant their deaths were assured.

Illya made promises he wasn't sure he could keep.

.

**Their withering kingship.**  
**How they prop each other up!**

**We own no wilderness rich and deep enough**  
**For stronghold against their stiff**

The trek was arduous, and keeping the infant Grisha quiet most difficult. The mother was not a strong woman and much of their journey would be on foot once they'd passed Lake Ladoga.

There would be patrols to evade, and now Illya thought surely KGB was following them.

**Battalions. See, how the tree boles flatten**  
**And lose their good browns**

**If the thin people simply stand in the forest,**  
**Making the world go thin as a wasp's nest**

Illya's plan failed as the KGB caught them. He killed them, but suffered the loss of his charges, only the wounded infant survived... not for long.

He returned to his handlers; Nicholaí's grisly finger as proof the task was completed.

KGB would have to solve their own riddles...

.

**And grayer; not even moving their bones.**

Friend and family lost to the cruelty of their government; Illya wondered if this might be his fate someday... being tossed aside like yesterday's trash.

And for what purpose; it mattered not. This was his lot in life, kill or be killed, life or death. A grim future indeed.


	73. Yosa Buson

A double drabble today...

.

Prompted by: Haikus by Yosa Buson (1716 ~ 1783)

**Dawn -**

**Fish the cormorants haven't caught**

**Swimming in the shallows.**

.

Napoleon dragged himself out of the water, feeling the fish swimming around his bare ankles. He looked around in a daze, as the boat he and his partner were in moments ago burned.

They had leapt free just before the explosion. Fuel ignited on the surface of the river, sending black smoke into the air along with bits of debris.

He scanned the shoreline, looking for Illya. There was no sign of him.

"Illya," Napoleon called out.

A cough and a sputter among the reeds gave him his answer and a sigh of relief.

_Still, a cormorant dove to feed..._

.

**In seasonal rain**

**along a nameless river**

**fear too has no name**

**.**

A light rain began to fall as Illya pulled himself out of the muck along the shoreline, turning to watch as the downfall helped extinguish the wreckage of their boat.

"You okay tovarisch," Napoleon called out.

"As best as can be expected, under the circumstances."

"Got lucky again didn't we chum?"

"Luck for you, skill for me," the Russian fearlessly laughed.

"Always the smart-mouth aren't you?"

"But of course..." he snickered.

_In the midst of a muddy face, a toothy grin appeared._


	74. The Road Not Taken

Prompted by: The Road Not Taken ~Robert Frost

.

**To where it bent in the undergrowth;**

I let my thought wander back to Korea, thinking of my friend Scotty Bob. Memorial Day would be here soon and it had been a few years since he'd visited his war buddy's grave in Arlington.

His last words as he knelt beside the grave on that day, ""Hey buddy, I haven't forgotten you."

.

**Had worn them really about the same,**

Yet there were too many being forgotten, both those who'd laid down their lives in the service of their country. It was a different war now...no they weren't even giving that courtesy, calling it a "conflict." Young men were still dying, just as they had during Korea, the World Wars...

.

**I doubted if I should ever come back.**

Too many never came home in all these wars. Sons, brothers, uncles and fathers. There was no closure for the families of those missing in action.

Napoleon wondered at times why he chose the profession he did, was it to continue to fight the good fight? Defending innocents, or was it to save the world, just little parts of it one piece at a time.

.

**And that has made all the difference.**

Everything he did for the Command, he did because it made a difference. Fighting the good fight alongside his partner to make the world a safer place.

Different kind of soldier now; one day not returning from a mission, to be buried anonymously in a foreign land?

Joining the 'missing.'


	75. Requiem

A triple drabble today.

Requiem~Robert Louis Stevenson

.

_**Under the wide and starry sky**_

_**dig the grave and let me die**_

_**Glad di I live and gladly die**_

_**And I laid me down with a will.**_

_**This be the verse you 'grave for me/**_

_**Here he lies where he long'd to be;**_

_**Home is the sailor, home from the sea,**_

_**And the hunter home from the hill.**_

**.**

Napoleon Solo lay in intensive care, his heart rate was steady, as was his breathing, but his wounds were grievous, and they weren't sure he would recover this time.

Illya sat beside him, waiting patiently for a sign...something, anything. He wasn't a man of prayer, and finally reached out to his friend, taking his hand and hoping he felt it, and perhaps would draw some strength from him.

"Napoleon, I am here. Listen to me, you have to fight this. Live, please live?"

The American's eyes fluttered open, and through those narrow slits he saw his Russian friend.

"Hi," he whispered hoarsely.

"Hi to you too,"Illya tried to smile, but with little success."You need to fight, you cannot leave me. I have just become accustomed to you. you know? Do not make me break in a new partner...that would very unfair."

"I'll try chum," he tried to laugh. Napoleon's demeanor became very serious."Look if I don't make it, want you to make sure, ummm...make sure this is written on my gravestone._ "Home is the sailor, home from the sea and the hunter home from the hill."_

Illya nodded gravely, thinking that was so befitting an epitaph; his friend, a lover of the sea and the greatest hunter he had ever known.

_"YA obeshchayu, I promise,_" he whispered in Russian, hiding his fear of losing this man. "But it will not be necessary Napoleon because you are going to get well, _da?_

_"YA obeshchayu_," Napoleon replied.

"I will hold you to that," Illya gave his hand another squeeze, "Now rest, there is a world to save, and too many beautiful women out there waiting for you, of course."

Kuryakin watched as his partner went back to sleep, this time smiling contentedly**.**


	76. Not that We did, shall be the test

A single drabble:

Prompted by: Not that We did, shall be the test~Emily Dickinson.

.

**Not that We did, shall be the test**  
**When Act and Will are done**  
**But what Our Lord infers We would**  
**Had We diviner been—**

Napoleon arrived just as a goon was unmercifully kicking the wounded Russian. Illya lay, trying to roll into a ball to protect himself. Behind him, shielding her with his body, was a small child wailing in terror.

"I'll give you something to cry about!" The Thrushman raised his large foot, ready to bring it down on her frail body.

"No you won't," Solo snarled, shooting the man in the back without hesitation, killing him.

Whether he'd failed or passed this test, God only knew. Napoleon resigned himself to face the consequences when the day came and he'd meet his Maker.


	77. Premonition at twilight

Prompted by:Premonition At Twilight~Philip Levine

.

**Become in darkness, darkness too.**

The Russian sat huddled in the shadows; the sun was slowly fading away.

Soon darkness would envelop him and he'd be in his natural environment.

Invisible...something he was good at because of a promise kept.

"Stay invisible." The last words his dying father spoke to him as a child.

.

**The bird in place, the shadows dropped**

Now that darkness had fallen, he had his advantage against the THRUSH who lay hidden himself somewhere out there.

They both had been waiting, undercover, but now Illya Kuryakin no longer needed it.

He would seek out his foe and settle the score, as surely as the sun had set.

.

**And then the bird, and then the tree;**

He found his enemy hiding in a tree, gazing out into the night in search of one lone UNCLE agent...Kuryakin, who was seeking retribution.

To the bird, Illya was just a target.

To the Russian this man was his prey, one he'd kill for revenge for nearly killing Napoleon.

.

**Became at last the whole of me.**

Illya reverted to the old ways; he'd been taught to be a single-minded hunter, a wolf seeking it's kill. That was the way he'd been trained so long ago.

UNCLE had softened that coldness, but tonight it returned to serve him well.

Revenge was a dish best served cold...


	78. Meeting at night

A double drabble based on a short poem.

.

Prompted by: Meeting at Night ~ Robert Browning

**The grey sea and the long black land;**

**And the yellow half-moon large and low;**

**And the startled little waves that leap**

**In fiery ringlets from their sleep,**

**As I gain the cove with pushing prow,**

**And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.**

**.**

**Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;**

**Three fields to cross till a farm appears;**

**A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch**

**And blue spurt of a lighted match,**

**And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,**

**Than the two hearts beating each to each!**

**.**

Napoleon worked swiftly with the skilled hands of a seaman as he guided the Pursang into the cove. He'd already taken up the mainsail and the jib and was now motoring the thirty-footer to the shore.

There was a small dock located there, and he pulled alongside, cutting the motor and tossed the mooring lines to the woman who waited there for him. April Dancer, her auburn hair blowing in the half-moon lit breeze, smiled at him.

As the boat was secured, Napoleon hopped down, and into her waiting arms.

"I missed you lover," she whispered.

"Me too."

Their lips met, making up for lost time...

.

They made their way to the farmhouse, not far away, and after striking a blue-flamed match to find the key, they tumbled inside, making their way to a an old comfy couch.

There they made love, and when finally they came up for air; they both laughed.

"Just think a whole weekend without Waverly," Napoleon smiled.

"Mark and Illya too," she added. "I adore them, but at times they just keep hovering over us. Why do they do that?"

"Old habits, they're used to protecting us."

Napoleon's communicator broke the spell of the moment.

"Solo."

"Yes, I have a mission for you..."


	79. Couriers

Prompted by:The Couriers ~Sylvia Plath

.

**It is not mine. Do not accept it.**

Napoleon Solo watched cautiously as his contact approached slowly along the dimly lit London street. Bathed in lamp light, plunged into darkness, then into light again as he moved closer and closer.

This was supposed to be an agent from the local office, though the American didn't recognize the man.

.

**Do not accept it. It is not genuine.**

There was something wrong, the American felt it and if his partner had been there, he would have voiced that concern; his instincts for these things were usually dead on.

"Dead on..." Not a good thought at the moment. Solo shook off that feeling, readying himself for whatever came his way.

.

**Lies. Lies and a grief.**

The man stopped in front of him, staring intently and looking at the UNCLE agent with his hand in his jacket, ready to pull his gun at any moment.

"I hardly think that is necessary," a familiar Russian voice spoke out of the shadows.

"Illya? Surely you're not my contact?"

.

**Cauldron, talking and crackling**

"No, it seems your contact was actually a little bird of prey, and I took care of it

before it could harm you." Illya removed his fedora and false moustache.

Napoleon looked up at a sign. sighing, "The Bird's Cauldron..." odd name for a tavern?

"Care for a drink chum?"

.

**Of nine black Alps.**

They walked inside the smoke-filled pub; the patrons turning to stare at the two strangers now in their midst.

"Two pints of ale," Napoleon ordered, as Illya tapped him on the shoulder.

"I think we are in the wrong place my friend."

Nine men were approaching them, billy clubs in hand.

.

**The sea shattering its grey one** -

The agents hurtling themselves at the men, bowling some over, chairs shattering, fists flying, leaving them standing while the others held their heads, groaning as they lay on the floor.

"I think we have stumbled upon a new bird's nest...perhaps reinforcements are in order

"Our cue to leave _tovarisch_."

.

**Love, love, my season**.

"How do we do these things?" Solo asked, "bad drop... falling into a THRUSH satrap in the blink of an eye?

They headed down the street, avoiding the light of the street lamps, sticking to the shadows and calling headquarters for help.

"Just lucky I guess,"the Russian shrugged his indifference.


	80. Archaic Bust of Apollo

Prompted by Archaic Bust Of Apollo ~Delmore Schwartz

.

**His gaze, contained as in a mirror's grace,**

Napoleon stared at himself in the mirror, turning sideways, scrutinizing his

profile, paying particular attention to his waistline.

Tsk, He clicked his tongue, not liking what he saw, resigning himself to visiting the gym.

Perhaps dining out a bit less," he sighed. His vanity wouldn't have a woman see him this way.

.

**There where love's strength is caught within its nest.**

"Napoleon?" Charlene whispered. "Why do we need the lights out? We never have before?

He hesitated, thinking of an excuse. "Just a change of pace. Don't you like exploring in the dark with your hands," he whispered.

"Mmm yes, explore me some more Napoleon."

"Glad to oblige my dear."

.

**Nor would it glisten like a stallion's hide,**

Eight weeks later, Napoleon stood before a mirror in the locker room, studying his profile yet again.

Illya stepped from the shower stall, observing his partner's behavior.

"Napoleon...you are the most vain man I have ever met."

"You never gain an ounce. Unlike you, normal people have to be more careful.

.

**All places scrutinize you. You must be reborn.**

I am not abnormal. I am like...a sports car that runs on higher octane,"Illya smiled.

"Yeah but a sports car requires more maintenance, which you don't do. I

think the sports car analogy suits me better, chum."

"You better see a mechanic then...my friend."

"Cute, very cute," Solo snickered


	81. Haiku, Yosa Buson

A single drabble today:

.

Prompted by: Prompted by: Haikus by Yosa Buson (1716 ~ 1783)

**A flash of lightning!**

**The sound of drops**

**Falling among the bamboos**

**.**

Napoleon could hear the sounds of the approaching vehicles. He had nowhere left to run and felt trapped like a stinking rat by Chinese troops.

Where was Illya? At least he spoke the language and might argue him out of this one.

Solo heard what they did to American agents...

He wiped the rain from his face, raising his hands.

Caught in their spotlights; a flash of lightning made him shiver.

Where was his Solo luck?


	82. The Quitter

Prompted by: The Quitter~Robert Service

.

**But the Code of a Man says: "Fight all you can,"**

Napoleon and Illya held each other up as they struggled to find cover. Both men had been wounded, but where others would have surrendered, neither of these men would. They'd have each other's backs unto their dying breath.

"Come on chum, just a little farther," Napoleon urged.

"Da, I know..."

.

**It's the plugging away that will win you the day,**

"Perseverance would be my middle name if it was not Nickovich," Illya muttered.

"I know," Napoleon stopped to catch his breath. "You're the most stubborn man I know, but stubbornness won't help when you're too weak to walk."

"Watch me." Kuryakin pulled himself from his partners grip, limping to the cave entrance, a few yards away.

.

**And though you come out of each gruelling bout,**

There he dropped his bloody jacket just inside, and pulled from it's hem the last of his explosive putty and a short fuse. He set it and limped back to his partner.

The THRUSH came bounding along, spotting the jacket.

"They went into the cave, now we got 'em."

When they disappeared inside, Illya pulled the stem on his watch.

"Booooom."

.

**It's the keeping-on-living that's hard.**

"I didn't know you had any explosives left," Napoleon smiled.

"My secret to keep," the Russian winked before he finally passed out.

Solo pulled a small ampule of smelling salts from his pocket, using it to revive his friend.

"What was that?" Illya coughed.

"My secret, this time..."


End file.
